Way back in 1984, this poem was my entry in a college writing contest judged by US poet Howard Nemerov.
The Moon
You walk on Costa Rican sand
Beside the warm Caribbean waves,
Gazing as the full moon paves
A street of silver to the land.
Here in Iowa, I take my walks
Beside the stubbly cornfields where
I see the moon, through cold still air,
Scatter shadows among the stalks.
Apollo was recast in steel
And Sister Artemis became
A dead stone, sun-lit in the night.
But we, night-wanderers, know the same
Power the ancients knew: we feel
Our glances mingle in her light.
Here are photos of the original documents: A brief letter telling me the result of the contest and one (of two) copies of the poem I submitted. I’m not sure, but the figure in black ink above the poem might be a “1” written by Nemerov. I like to think so. I won $50 or $75, so I guess I’m a professional poet…
